"Well, then, one may send a remembrance to a friend by you, I suppose?" said the secretary, with a most crafty smile: "of course you ride the direct road to Lichtenstein?"
The young man blushed up to the forehead. Since Bertha's departure she had not been the subject of conversation between him and his host, and therefore his sly question took him so much the more by surprise. "I perceive," said he, "that you do not understand me yet. You believe I have only turned my back on the League for the purpose of joining the enemy? How can you think so ill of me?"
"Ah! away with you," replied the wary scribe; "no one else but my charming cousin has influenced your conduct. You would have shut an eye to every thing the League did, had old Lichtenstein been on our side; but now that you know he belongs to the other party, you think yourself justified in joining it also."
Albert might defend himself as well as he could; the secretary was too firmly rooted in his opinion to allow himself to be talked out of it. Moreover, he thought this step very natural, and saw nothing in it dishonourable or blamable. With a hearty remembrance to his cousin in Lichtenstein, he left the room of his guest. But on the threshold of the door he turned round again, and said, "I had almost forgotten to mention, that I met George von Fronsberg in the street, who begs you will go and see him this evening at his house."
Albert had already determined not to depart without taking leave of Fronsberg, but he felt nervous at appearing before a man whose intentions towards him were kind, but whose plans he had thwarted. He buckled on his sword, thinking upon this painful meeting, and was arranging his cloak, when his attention was drawn to an unusual noise on the stairs. Heavy steps of a party of men approached his door; he thought he heard the clatter of swords and halberts on the stone floor of the ante-room. He stepped quickly towards the door to ascertain the cause of this visit; but before he reached it, it opened, and by the light of a few candles he perceived many armed men about to enter. The same old soldier who had received him when he went to the council of war, stepped forward.
"Albert von Sturmfeder!" said he to the young man, who retreated a step in astonishment, "by order of the grand council of war I make you my prisoner."
"Me--prisoner?" said Albert, with consternation. "Why? what am I guilty of?"
"That 'a not my affair," answered the old man, surlily, "but probably you will not be left long in ignorance. Be so good to deliver up your sword to me, and follow me to the town hall."
"How? give up my sword?" replied the young man in the rage of insulted pride. "Who are you that dares to demand my weapon? The council must send men of a different stamp for that purpose before I submit; I know too well what your profession is."
"For God's sake give up your sword," cried his friend, the secretary, who forced himself through the crowd to his side, "obey the order--resistance were vain. You have to do with Truchses," he whispered: "he is a fearful enemy; do not force him to extremities."